


Scenes from "Logan"

by EdmondJames_Dantes



Series: Evil Author Day (more like Exhausted Author needs a place to dump stuff he's not continuing) [5]
Category: NCIS, slight crossover with 'Bull'
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Everyday Life Fic, Gender Dysphoria, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Kind of realistic kind of crackfic, M/M, Outed Without Consent, Time Skips, Transgender Male Character, Transphobia, different POV, god this sounds grisly but it's honestly not that bad i think, mentions of torture, slice of life fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 23:30:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19037746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdmondJames_Dantes/pseuds/EdmondJames_Dantes
Summary: Slice of life fic, with some family trauma thrown in for free, and a small happy ending





	Scenes from "Logan"

**Author's Note:**

> Bits and pieces from that transgender Gibbs series I was working on ages back, I lost interest and never finished it, but good god I apparently wrote over 10k and don't remember it? So there's enough here that a couple people might enjoy it. Just be aware that the first chapter of Logan repeats in here to give a bit of context but I've left out The Sunseeker because of how long it was. So this is still a little disjointed, especially since I never finished it lol, but it should be manageable.

 

 

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

 

The first time Tony kisses him, it changes everything for Gibbs.

They're sharing a six pack of beer between the two of them, and it should be an ordinary night of just them sitting together and talking, but Tony's eyes linger on his lips, his gaze seems to catch Gibbs's every few seconds, his pupils blown wide and the iris a thin ring of jade, and Gibbs has butterflies fluttering in his guts with every move Tony makes.

Tony shrugs his shoulders and stretches, and Gibbs watches powerful muscles flex under that well-fitting t-shirt and his cheeks feel hot and arousal curls low in his belly. Tony locks their gazes and wraps perfect lips around the top of the bottle and he _winks_ at Gibbs, and heat surges through Gibbs's dick and wetness starts to leak between his thighs.

His breath catches, and something, everything, must show on his face, because the cocky flirting falls from Tony's face. Tony surges forward, the bottle falling wayside, and there are large warm hands holding Gibbs's head in place and those perfect lips, soft and wet with beer, roughly press into his own.

Gibbs kisses back, opened-mouthed and eager, sucking Tony's tongue in, and he doesn't mean to but his hands slide into Tony's silky hair. He slowly tips back onto his old tired couch, but even as he's pulling Tony with him, Tony's already clumsily following, long limbs unwieldy as he clambers into Gibbs's lap.

Gibbs stops thinking. All that matters is Tony rocking his hips, rubbing their dicks together through their jeans, Tony's lips sealed to his own in a hard, desperate, never-ending kiss, and Tony's hands stroking over Gibbs's shoulders, his chest, slipping under hoodie and shirt and touching him skin to skin.

It's intoxicating.

It's his best friend, someone Jethro loves and trusts without question or reserve, and while he's done his best to suppress any desire for Tony, now that he's got Tony reciprocating loud and clear, it's like a tidal wave of _want_ is crashing through his veins.

It's not until Tony's hand ventures south on his belly, gently scratching through his happy trail and sliding over belt buckle and onto Gibbs's denim-covered crotch and squeezing the soft packer, that awareness and reality and fear jolts through Gibbs's system. Tony fumbles with his belt buckle, trying to undo it, and it takes every inch of Gibbs's willpower to pull his lips and tongue and mouth from Tony's, and gasp out, "Not tonight," as he pushes Tony's hand away from his groin, his secret and the undeniable evidence of it.

Tony pulls back and stills, eyes wide with fear, and his hands withdraw entirely, now unsure where the lines are.

But it's too late. Gibbs has already had a change of heart. Staring into Tony's eyes, Leroy Jethro Gibbs's soul has already silently declared that he's gonna say yes to whatever Tony wants and damn the consequences. He's terrified of Tony asking why or why not, because he's just plain not ready to tell. Until Tony kissed him, he had no idea that this future, this relationship, this man was even an option, but he's already fully committed.

The words echo in his head, rush through his blood, and pound in time with his heart: _I'm his._

His heart always was too eager to give him away.

But Gibbs is still scared of answering to the man who unknowingly holds his heart in large warm hands; he says nothing, staring wide-eyed at Tony.

However, instead of questioning, instead of pushing, and better still, instead of retreating, instead of taking his hesitation as outright rejection, Tony gathers some inner strength and smiles gently. "Can I take you out for dinner and dancing tomorrow night?"

Gibbs's heart thuds against his ribcage and slowly starts to calm. Wryly, Gibbs thinks that at least this time he knows it's the right man, the right decision. Someone who knows him well and likes him anyway. Someone who knows just what to say to make everything alright again.

Gibbs grins and nods happily. This might actually _work_.

But of course - because the universe is cruel and chaotic - instead of dinner and dancing, they catch a case. A little boy has been kidnapped. A marine's six year old son, and Gibbs takes one look at the photograph supplied by the boy's mothers, and all he can see superimposing over Gabriel's face is his and Tony's future son.

It's one hell of a shock to his system.

After so many years, and so many cases, he'd almost gotten used to seeing Kelly when kids are involved.

Little Gabriel looks nothing like what their son would look like, his skin's too brown, even for Tony's Italian gold, and his eyes are too light, almost a grey, to be Gibbs's blues. But rage comes hurtling through Gibbs like magma burning through his veins, because this is someone's son, this could have been his and Tony's son if they'd gotten their shit together earlier instead of wasting years on fear and cowardice, and Gibbs will be _damned if he ever lets Gabriel's parents suffer the way he has by losing a child._

Gibbs raises his head, gaze locking with Tony, and Tony just looks at him for one long second, pain in his eyes, and then Tony turns around and walks off, no excuse or explanation. But then, Gibbs doesn't need one, he trusts Tony. Whatever Tony's gone off to do is fucking important or he wouldn't be doing it right this instant.

He waits impatiently, grumping at Tim and Ellie, and glaring hard when they give him little looks of understanding and kindness, _because they think they know,_ because they know about Shannon and Kelly, but he thinks they should know better than to try comforting him. But exactly one minute later, Tony strides back in, resolve steeling his spine, and something of a predator lurking in his eyes, and then it's a flurry of work, of quick words and quicker thoughts piecing together the evidence and doing everything necessary to solve the case and save Gabriel.

In the bullpen, three days later, when they finally return Gabriel to his mothers, Gibbs and Tony are both covered in blood. Gibbs couldn't care less about the blood from the asshole ex-husband that's soaking his own clothes but he's painfully aware of Tony's slashed thigh, slowly dribbling dark red. Even so, Gibbs can't tear his eyes away from watching the two women hugging their young son. It's everything he's wanted to have with Shannon and Kelly since they died, and now, it's everything he wants to have with Anthony DiNozzo Junior some day. It hurts how much he wants both the past and future. It feels like being torn in half. He has to turn and walk away.

Tony catches him by the elbow as Gibbs walks past him. Gibbs freezes and glares at him, deliberately looking down at the hand holding his arm and then back up at Tony. Tony should damn well know better to get personal while on duty, and he should definitely know better than to be gentle with Gibbs when he's this fucking close to crying.

Tony leans in close, offering privacy, and Gibbs knows,  he just _knows_ that whatever Tony is about to say is going to pull the ground out from beneath his feet.

Tony whispers, "I'd give you yours back if I could."

Gibbs stares in shock, jaw dropping slightly. In this situation there's only one thing - one person - he could mean.

Tony swallows nervously, but continues, "Both of them."

Then Tony lets go and spins around, quickly staggering off, and Gibbs can't move. He can only stare after Tony, absolutely fucking emotionally _destroyed_. Because Gibbs has had three ex-wives and several lovers, and _all_ of them have tried to compete with his dead wife and daughter for his attention. Not one of them has ever validated his continued love for Shannon or treated her as their equal.

Gibbs doesn't know how long he stands there staring, but the next thing he knows, he's running as fast as he can after Tony.

 

 

_Anthony D. DiNozzo Junior_

 

Gibbs catches up with him in the NCIS car-park, lands a hand on Tony's bicep, and says, "I'll take you to the hospital," and since that's where Tony was heading anyway, he reluctantly nods. There's an awkward quiet at first in Gibbs's Challenger, but then Gibbs turns on the radio, twisting the old dial until it's on the station Tony has started listening to on his morning drives into work. But it's been a long three days, and Tony's last tired thought is _, Since when does Gibbs pay any attention to radio stations and music?_ before he dozes off to the sound of Jason Derulo crooning _Want to Want Me._

The hospital visit is unpleasant, but then Tony hates hospitals. He hates needles, he hates the way the painkillers make him feel all weird, and he hates having to wear the stupid, itchy hospital underwear given to him, since he's not wearing any of his own. He sullenly allows the doctor to clean, poke, and prod at his thigh, and she pronounces it, "A minor wound, shallow, for all that it stretches over eleven inches. Just in need of stitches and a cover to keep it clean."

Tony rolls his eyes. He already knows _that._ He would sew it up himself if not for his _hate_ of needles. As it is, when the doctor comes at him brandishing the needle and thread, Tony flinches fearfully and instinctively reaches out for Gibbs. Doctor Wesson eyes them up curiously, the way _Special Agent Gibbs_ instantly steps forward and offers his hand, letting _Special Agent DiNozzo_ grip it tight, but at Tony's hard stare she says nothing and efficiently stitches up his thigh.

Then finally, the doctor has finished and gone, and Tony's ridding himself of the stupid underwear and stepping into his jeans, ignoring Gibbs ignoring him, when his phone buzzes on the hospital bed with a text message.

"Get that for me, will you?" says Tony, struggling not to fall over as he tries to work out how he's managed to fuck up something as simple as pulling on pants. _It's possible they gave me the wrong painkillers_ , he thinks, blinking down at where his feet are _not_ co-operating with him.

"It's from someone called 'Big Bull'."

Gibbs sounds pissed off, but Tony chuckles, and doesn't bother to look up, still struggling with his jeans, hopping up and down on one leg. He'd changed his big brother's contact in revenge after finding out that he was called _Lil Shit_ in his brother's phone. Of course, when he'd told Jason that he was now named _Big Bull_ , the annoying man actually liked it.

"Big Bull says, 'Hi babe, you wouldn't happen to want a new car, would you? I bought an extra one by mistake the other day. Love, your sugar daddy.'"

Tony bursts into laughter. It's just such a Jason thing to say and do. He laughs until he's choking, and shit, he _can't stop._ A tiny, stubbornly sober part of his mind dryly points out that, _The drugs have made you hysterical_ , but Tony's too happily lost in his giggles to care. He's practically folded in half, suffocating from amusement when Gibbs finally comes over, fixes his feet into the correct pants' legs, and roughly yanks his jeans up.

"Ow ow ow!"  whines Tony as the denim rubs over his bandaged wound, and not thankful in the slightest, he snaps petulantly, "That hurt!"

"Don't be such a baby, _babe,_ " snaps Gibbs right back at him.

Tony scowls, and despite himself, his eyes start to fill with tears. "That _hurt,_ Gibbs."

Gibbs glares at him, but then Tony's lower lip wobbles, and Gibbs caves completely. "I'm sorry. That was - stupid. And mean. I'll be more careful in future," Gibbs says, his glare fading into an abashed look.

Tony eyes him warily. But Gibbs looks like he means it, biting his lip nervously. _That's good,_ thinks Tony, _he should feel bad about hurting me_. But Gibbs has been good, the last few months, about apologising and keeping his word, and as upset as Tony is, he thinks, _I can be magnano- magnana- I can be nice about it._ Tony nods jerkily in acknowledgement and acceptance of the apology.

Gibbs sighs, relieved. But something Tony can't read crosses his face. "Who's 'Big Bull'?" Gibbs asks quietly.

Tony huffs disdainfully and looks away. He's got no desire to tell anything to Gibbs right now after the man's rough handling of him. _And while I'm wounded, too,_ he thinks angrily. Everything just feels so much _bigger_ than normal, and Tony _knows_ that his reactions are too much - _Dis-pro-por-tion-ate,_ he thinks, and he has to think it slowly in order to think it _right_ \- but he can't seem to stop feeling this way, thinking too slow, then too fast, and he hates - _hate,_ _hate, hate not having control over my own damn mind._

But then, with a long sigh, Gibbs does up the buttons of Tony's jeans and buckles his belt, and his hands are comforting and warm as they stroke up and down Tony's forearms, upsetting the hairs and smoothing them back down, and it's Tony's turn to cave, his silly, foolish heart melting with the casually given affection.

 _Ugh. Stupid heart._ "Jason Bull is my big brother," says Tony stiffly. He's pretending to be annoyed but Gibbs is _still stroking his forearms_ and his stupid melty heart bursts. The easy, soothing touch is making Tony _want things_. He wants to be able to share the joke, especially with Gibbs, wants to see Gibbs smile at him again, wants to touch Gibbs back, make Gibbs feel good, drop to his knees and-

 _Easy, Anthony. They gave you the wrong painkillers, again. Take a few deep breaths and calm down,_ says that sober little voice, and this time Tony listens and tries to obey, deliberately focusing on his breathing, trying to keep it even.

Gibbs stills, tensing up, and his eyes fix on Tony's. "You've never mentioned a brother."

Tony shrugs. "He and I don't talk much. Just the occasional conversation." Jason calls once, maybe twice a month. Technically they're only half-brothers, with Jason four years older, for all that they look like twins - they both strongly take after mom - but even so, Jason never seems to mind having an annoying little brother. He's never held it against Tony that their mother, Elizabeth Paddington, chose to marry Tony's dad, and not his own.

"He's cool," adds Tony truthfully, not wanting to be disloyal to a man who's always been good to him. "But we have very separate lives." It's something that Tony's regretted for a long time now, but he doesn't know how to close the gap between them, especially since the distance between them is his fault, his own insecurities getting in the way.

Gibbs nods, something like pensiveness on his face, but Tony's starting to feel all hazy and uncomfortable in his own skin, the drug's high fading fast to a low, and he stays quiet and lost in his thoughts even as Gibbs puts shoes and socks back on his feet, his phone back into his pocket, and leads him back through the hospital with a firm hand guiding him from the small of his back.

Jason is a good guy, someone who makes a living by helping people, and he always makes time for Tony whenever Tony deigns to acknowledge that he exists. Even if it's mostly to ask for advice, or help, and, on that one occasion, bail money, because Tony gets accused of murder way too often for a guy who _hasn't ever murdered anyone_. It happens like once a year.

Tony's actually declared Jason on his emergency contact list at NCIS for the sole reason that it means his brother will be alerted and can come get him if Vance decides he really doesn't mind if Tony spends the night in a jail cell. (To be fair, Vance hasn't ever actually made him spend more than a few hours in a jail cell, but Tony likes to be prepared for it anyway. The director doesn't actually _like_ him all that much. Or, at all.)

But it's like a competition between him and Jason, and Jason always wins without having to try. Tony can read people well, but Jason's got like three psychology degrees. Tony wears masks the way other people wear suits, is NCIS's king of undercover ops, and can make anyone like him if he puts in the effort. Whereas Jason doesn't bother with masks, but when he does go undercover for his job he always does it perfectly, but worst of all he doesn't _need_ to put any effort in to make people like him, they just _do._

Jason is, basically, like a better, more amazing version of Tony - a thought that leads Tony to hope that Gibbs never meets him, because Gibbs will take one look at Jason's handsome face that is pretty much identical to Tony's and _like it_ , and then when he finds out how _educated_ and _awesome_ and _kickass_ Jason Bull is, it'll be Goodbye Tony, Hello Jason.

Tony gets another text, this time from Ziva, just after Gibbs has helped him back into the _Challenger_ , and reading that Tali is missing her _abba_ tugs at Tony's heartstrings painfully. Tony head-slaps himself - avoiding Gibbs's startled and curious gaze as the man settles in behind the wheel - because _he promised_ that he wouldn't be anything like his own father, he promised Ziva that he'd be there for Tali as much as she'd let him, and now it's been at least a week since he's seen his baby girl. But he reigns in the wave of his self-incriminating anger, because it won't do to show up angry, especially not when he's already going to be showing up a little wounded and a lot medicated.

It doesn't take more than a quick command phrased as a request for Gibbs to nod and take him to Ziva's new place, but it's not until Tony falls asleep to the radio again, and wakes up outside Ziva's apartment, that he sees the disappointment in Gibbs's eyes, the tension in his shoulders.

"You need a hand inside?" is all Gibbs says.

Tony shakes his head, and carefully clambers out. He has to lean against the car for a long moment, but when he's finally ready to go in, he hesitates. He turns around and ducks his head down through the open car window. "You want to come in?"

It's Gibbs's turn to hesitate, but ultimately he shakes his head. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

Tony nods and heads inside. As much as he wants to untangle things with Gibbs, his daughter has to come first. Besides, Gibbs wouldn't expect, or want, anything else; he's a dad as well, he'll understand, and Tony will drop by Gibbs's house at some point during their downtime to talk with him.

 

 

When Tony eventually musters the courage to open the door to la Casa de Gibbs, it is still the same night of his atypical declaration of love, but only by about twenty minutes. Gibbs is fast asleep, curled up on couch, on the corner closest to the small fire quietly crackling away in the hearth. Tony takes one look at him and guilt sinks into his belly. Gibbs is wearing jeans and a red hoodie, some worn sneakers. The blankets he normally sleeps in are still folded on the floor. Presumably he had tried to stay up, stay awake until Tony arrived. There is a little paperback book fallen onto the rug.

Tony sighs, glad he had shut the door carefully. He walks over to Gibbs, trying to be quiet, but can't help but hiss as he crouches down, pulling a little at his stitches. "Gibbs?" says Tony softly, not wanting to startle him - they both got hurt today, even if Tony's wound is physical, and Gibbs's is emotional. He isn't about to risk shaking awake a sleeping soldier, but he needs Gibbs to wake enough to recognise him before it will be safe to get him properly settled. "Gibbs?"

Gibbs stretches a little, yawning and blinking sleepily. "Tony?"

"Hey Gibbs," says Tony quietly, finally reaching out and cupping Gibbs's face, his thumb gently rubbing Gibbs's stubbled cheek. It feels like an age since he's last felt Gibbs's warm skin beneath his fingertips. "Let's get you a little more comfortable, yeah? Don't think you want to sleep in your belt and shoes."

Gibbs nods his agreement, and he reaches back, his fingers curling in a loose grip around Tony's tie. "We gon' talk now?"

Tony hesitates, but Gibbs looks half-asleep. "It's late. We can talk some other time."

"Okay. Whatever you want, Tony," says Gibbs, yawning again and childishly rubbing at his eyes with a fist.

"Come on, lie down." Tony helps Gibbs shift and lay out over the couch, taking back his tie in the process to Gibbs's sleepy grunts and petulant little growls, and he undoes and pulls off Gibbs's belt and shoes. He grabs the blankets, but as he is smoothing them over Gibbs, a hand catches his wrist.

"Stay with me?" asks Gibbs, baby blues blinking but trying to focus on Tony.

Tony bites his lip, but before he can decline, Gibbs lightly tugs on his wrist. "Want you t' stay, Tony."

"Okay," agrees Tony, a little happy smile stealing over his lips, despite his fear that Gibbs might wake in the morning with a different outlook on the situation. "Just let me stoke the fire."

Tony prods the fire with the old iron poker until little flames flare through the mess, adding kindling and three logs and hoping that that will be enough to last the night. He sits on the edge of the coffee table to remove his shoes and belt and jacket, tossing his phone, wallet, badge, and keys, on top. He's too tired to bother removing the little back-up pistol holstered to his ankle, but he didn't bring his main gun; in the unlikely chance he would need one, Gibbs would no doubt provide. His penknife stays in his pocket, of course, no matter how uncomfortable; Rule 9.

Then, everything he can think of taken care of, Tony slides under the blankets, cuddling in close and holding on tightly to Gibbs, only in part because he doesn't want to fall off the couch. He presses his nose into the nape of Gibbs's neck, breathing in a scent that smells like home, and at some point while he's warm and safe and content he dozes off.

 

 

* 

 

 

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

 

Later that night, Jethro is curled around Tony on the couch, and despite having had two orgasms already, it's a strain on his self-control not to roll his hips forward: he's got a hard cock at the moment, soft leather keeping the base of it in place over his true, tiny dick at a pleasurable pressure, and the shaft is lubed up and stuck up Tony's butt.

The fire's going in the hearth, the living room's nice and warm, and though they've got a light blanket covering them with their intention to fall asleep soon, Jethro doubts that Tony's gonna be capable of sleeping with a cock up his ass. Never mind that Tony's the one who wants it there while he sleeps.

"Can I tell you a secret?" asks Jethro, tucking his nose into Tony's throat.

"Yeah," says Tony, and Jethro doesn't need to see his face to know Tony's got on his dumb Just been ridden hard and put away wet grin. "You can tell me anything. I want to know all your secrets. I'll keep them safe, I promise."

"One secret at a time, Tony." Jethro chuckles and holds in a moan, shifting minutely as he settles into a slightly comfier position, but Tony groans deeply, Jethro's hard cock lightly rubbing his sweet spot.

Tony snickers, but Jethro can hear his willpower wavering as he talks. "Yeah, you tell me everything all at once and my favourite functional mute might just implode!"

Jethro snorts and slaps Tony's naked thigh.

Tony turns his head, blinking innocently. "Was that actually meant to be a slap? Because it felt like a tickle."

"You're an annoying little shit, you know that, right?" says Jethro exasperatedly. He feels a sudden spark of empathy for Big Bull - for Jason, Tony's big brother - because Tony has definitely perfected the annoying little brother routine.

Tony laughs lightly. "You love me anyway."

Jethro sighs, mock-annoyed. "You're lucky you're pretty, DiNozzo."

"Hey!"

"Go to sleep, Tony," says Jethro, rolling his eyes. By god, Anthony is lucky that he's pretty. And kind and loyal, courageous and sweet. Actually, I am definitely the lucky one.

Tony takes several slow breaths and tries to relax, trying to fall asleep, only to jerk suddenly. "Wait, what's the secret?"

"Oh, you already know it," says Jethro, amused. He hums and sucks at Tony's nape, just below his hairline. Another moment or two and sleep is gonna be the last thing on Tony's mind. The man's so predictable at times. Well, at least when it comes to Jethro talking about his own feelings for him.

"No I don't," says Tony, sounding like he's pouting. "You didn't tell me."

"I love you anyway, Tony," says Jethro and waits for it to click.

"Gibbs?" says Tony, Jethro's lover, his partner, the rest of his life.

"Yeah, Tony?" murmurs Jethro, his hand lazily caressing Tony's forearm.

"I can't wait 'til tomorrow for you to fuck me again," Tony informs him seriously without looking at him.

A beat of silence.

Then Jethro bursts into laughter. "I fucking knew you wouldn't be able to sleep like this!" he splutters out.

Of course, once his laughter fades away - or rather, is urged away by Tony's rocking hips, the man fucking himself on Jethro's dick - Jethro turns Tony over onto his belly, holds him down firmly, one hand on Tony's shoulder and the other on his hip, and fucks them both senseless one more time.

 

 

*

 

  
Jethro stretches awake, fingertips and toes reaching in opposite outward directions, but there's a weight on top of him hindering his movement. Slowly he smiles, before his eyes open. Tony.

DiNozzo is conked out completely, soft snores rumbling against Jethro's chest, his breath tickling Jethro's naked skin and creating the best kind of goose-bumps.

Jethro smiles more widely, and runs his fingers through Tony's sandy hair. It's getting pretty long now. Well, long enough that Tony will be wanting to get it cut soon enough if he doesn't already - a vestige of that long ago time spent at military academy on Rhode Island.

Jethro feels good. And that feels monumental.

It's been so long since he's woken up happy, he'd forgotten that it was a possibility.

The world feels different.

They're resting on his same old lumpy couch, but Jethro's comfortable, even with - especially with - Tony commandeering him as a pillow. It's the same old sun that wakes him with the dawn every morning, but the light is... different somehow. Brighter, as if he'd spent the last twenty years walking around in a fog that was bad enough to ground airplanes and it's only just now cleared to reveal the bright blue sky that was there all along.

The world feels different. Different but good. Or maybe it's just him?

Tony snuffles and jerks and splutters awake. "No! No raptors, Tim!"

Jethro turns shy with Tony wakening, but he can't stop smiling at the absurdity of Tony's dreams. Too many movies, he reckons. He knows that the rest of the team went to the cinemas to see Jurassic World a few weekends back. "Do you not like dinosaurs?" he whispers.

Tony freezes, then slowly, painfully slowly, turns his chin to face him. Wariness in his eyes.

Jethro bites his lip. The last time they'd woken up together, he and Tony had both made some pretty stupid assumptions - he's not gonna let that happen again. "How's my Jaeger co-pilot feeling?" says Jethro, still softly, wanting to reassure Tony with the reference to their partnership.

The wariness fades. Tony grins, small and happy. "I'm good. And mine?" he whispers back.

Jethro nods, flushing slightly but pleased with the easy way Tony's laid claim to him. "I'm good too."

"Good," says Tony, and then just stares at him, that little grin not going anywhere.

Jethro stares back solemnly, perfectly happy to get lost and found in Tony's green eyes. They don't have work, there's no-where they have to be.

Tony looks happy. He's a decade and more older than when they first met, but so is Jethro. Time has given Tony little blemishes - crow's feet and laugh lines - that would probably drive Tony nuts if Jethro ever mentioned them, but Jethro's planning on telling the truth if ever asked: Anthony DiNozzo is more beautiful now than that first day back in Baltimore, and he was pretty damn beautiful back then. Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder, but in Jethro's opinion it just shines out of Tony's soul and into the world.

"Are we just going to have a staring competition all day?" asks Tony, amused, and his voice is low and enticing, his eyes darkening with lust and emotion.

"Oh, is that what we're doing?" murmurs Jethro, matching him for amusement, but pretty sure he doesn't come off even half as seductive as he wants to.

Tony chuckles, leaning in and shifting a bit, and his half-hard cock nudges up against Jethro's own tiny excuse of a penis.

Jethro freezes, shock roiling through him. His eyes slam shut as shame hits him like a truck going 80 hits a concrete wall.

"Gibbs? Gibbs? Shit, hey Gibbs, come on, talk to me, what's wrong?" Tony sounds panicked.

He can't deal with Tony's panic on top of his own ricocheting around in his skull.

Jethro grits his teeth, eyes still tightly squeezed shut. "I need you to get off of me. Right. Now."

Tony gets.

The instant he's free, Jethro's eyes snap open, he bolts upright and lunges for their mess of clothes on the floor. It takes too long - only a second - to find his briefs, and - Thank god - his dick and balls, the soft prosthetic that he uses daily, is still tucked inside.

Jethro is horribly aware that Tony must be staring at him, probably weirded out or disgusted, as he turns away and cups his prosthetic to his crotch over the pitifully small dick that doesn't hang between his legs so much as sticks out from there, barely, just a little. He steps into and yanks up yesterday's briefs, decades of practice the only reason that doing so one-handed is easy.

Only now, with his underwear hiding his shame, does it become easier to breathe.

Jethro collapses back onto the couch, and waits for his heart to stop pounding like he's on fire. Now he remembers being too sleepy from sex last night to be bothered finding his briefs - he had simply fallen asleep, and at some point he'd woken briefly to pull off and toss aside his erect dick.

Jethro glances at the coffee table and winces to see the strap-on cock, still in its harness, and still sticky with lube, just sitting there in broad daylight.

His dick and cunt are still slick underneath his prosthetic, his thighs slick as well.

He can't even look in Tony's direction.

"Sorry," mutters Jethro into the quiet of the living room, and he locks his gaze down on his fingers twisting together. The apology feels as insufficient as he does right now. The world still feels different, all too clear in a way it hasn't felt in forever, since Shannon and Kelly, since a whole different life, but that only makes this pain all the more sharp. Perhaps this is why Jethro let himself get lost in the fog, and became Gibbs, the agent, someone who couldn't be broken.

Carefully, Tony sits down beside him, not quite touching, but close nonetheless. "You don't need to apologise, Gibbs," says Tony calmly.

Jethro nods, but doesn't look over. Tony sounds too calm for it to be real and not one of his masks. He's not sure if it's a good thing that Tony's decided to put aside his own emotions to deal with the situation or if it's bad that they haven't even been together for one week and Jethro's already pushed him into hiding.

Tony moves off the couch and crouches down in front of him, taking Jethro's hands in his. It makes it awfully difficult for Jethro to avoid his eyes.

"Can you look at me, Gibbs?" says Tony.

Reluctantly Jethro raises his gaze. Tony's got some concern in his eyes, but he's grinning brightly too.

Jethro scowls at him. "What's so funny?"

Tony squeezes his fingers. "Can you just imagine how much trouble we'd be in if we both panicked at the same time?"

Jethro blinks, and relaxes a bit, realizing that Tony's not laughing at him, so much as inviting him into laughing at them. He sighs, and smiles crookedly. "Guess it's a good thing we're taking panicking in turns then."

Tony chuckles, but becomes serious. "You alright now?"

Jethro cocks his head to the side, and really considers it. "Getting there, maybe. I feel better than I have in a long time." He's surprised that even after the whiplash-like back and forth of his emotions, that he is settling back into that good feeling that he'd had waking up.

"Good," says Tony, voice full of relief, and he pushes up and presses a kiss to Jethro's lips.

Jethro lets his eyes fall closed, and pulls Tony into his lap. It's still a little awkward, given that Tony's larger than any of his previous partners and also clearly has little to no experience with someone taking care of him - of being held in someone's arms instead of doing the holding - but they'll get better with practice. He kisses Tony back, enjoying the sweet, easy affection. He's gonna make this work, no matter what.

 

 

*

 

  
Jethro wakes up early as usual on Wednesday, but with what is quickly becoming a new usual, he has Tony in his arms as he wakes. Tony's laying on his back and Jethro's curled around him, leeching off the heat that Tony gives out like a furnace. He drops a kiss to Tony's temple and looks at his new bedside clock, just to verify, and yes, it's 0600. If he wakes Tony now, they'll have time for some love-making.

Jethro grins and nuzzles into Tony's throat. He drops little kisses along the jugular, and lets one hand roam over Tony's chest, rubbing at small nipples before it occurs to him that Tony probably won't appreciate being treated like a woman. Their relationship's been something of a learning curve for Jethro - but a fun one, even as he makes mistakes. The trouble is, sometimes he doesn't know he's made a mistake 'til Tony frustratedly - or worse, quietly - points it out.

He trails his fingers down Tony's chest to rub Tony's belly. It's a bit softer than when he first met the man, but given that in the first few years they'd known each other that Tony had struggled to put on weight, Gibbs is actually pretty damn happy about it. It's good to know that the cowboy style steaks that he's served to the man through-out the years haven't gone to waste, and that Tony's healthy now and that it would probably take something major to push him into either direction of poor health, too skinny or too fat. Jethro hasn't forgotten the aftermath of that damn plague.

Jethro gently scratches his fingernails through Tony's curly pubic hair. It's trimmed short-ish, which both was and wasn't a surprise that first time he got Tony's pants down. Jethro had figured that Tony would be well groomed everywhere, but he'd thought that meant that Tony would be clean-shaven down there. He doesn't watch porn regularly, but he's seen enough to know that it's what all the porn-stars look like now, and most of his recent partners - albeit, all women - have followed that trend. Still, he likes the short dark curls on Tony, and it's not like Jethro's opinion on Tony's body hair even matters anyway. Especially since he doesn't bother with manscaping himself.

He turns his attention to Tony's penis and testicles. Tony's cock is half-hard and Jethro cups it in his hand. He'd never actually touched a real penis and scrotum before Tony came along, and it's strange for Jethro to see up close what he's been missing his whole life. Tony's shaft and balls are both darker in skin colour than Jethro had expected, but the thick head poking out of the foreskin is still pink.

About the same shade of pink as his lips, muses Jethro. He's got a weird mix of emotions tugging his heart strings right now. He's envious as fuck that Tony's got a perfect dick as well as perfect everything else - which he knows isn't right or fair of him to feel that way, but he can't exactly help it. He's happy too, that Tony's never had to go through the mental agony of living with the wrong body parts. And he's feeling extremely protective of the floppy semi-erect cock resting in his hand.

It's kind of cute, he thinks, absolutely disgusted with himself for thinking the word 'cute' but unable to come up with any other word that adequately describes his adoration for Tony's dick.

"You know, if I could, I'd give you mine if it'd make you feel better," murmurs Tony sleepily.

Jethro pulls a face. "That's revolting, Tony!" Cute has got nothing on this, he thinks furiously, his head jerking up, and he stares at his slow-awakening partner.

Tony rubs sleep out of his eyes. "What?" he says, yawning. "They do other organ transplants, don't they? Don't you want a cock?"

Jethro scowls at him, never mind that Tony can't see it - Tony hasn't even opened his eyes - and snaps, "I don't want someone else's penis cut and pasted onto my crotch!" And he sure as hell doesn't want to deprive Tony of his.

"Alright," says Tony mildly, completely unperturbed by the idea. "You can't have mine then," he teases.

Jethro keeps scowling at him. Sometimes he truly can't tell if Tony's joking for fun, joking to be a dick, or just completely clueless. "That's not funny, Tony," says Jethro firmly. "I'm not a fucking joke."

Tony blinks at him, and frowns. "I didn't mean to make you into one," he says softly, fully awake now and wide-eyed.

Jethro stares back, trying to figure out if that's an apology or not, or if, maybe, he's the one who should be apologising. Fuck it. "Sorry," says Jethro, staring into Tony's wide just been kicked puppy eyes. He swallows down his pride. "I might have over-reacted," he admits grudgingly.

Tony nods slowly. "I'm sorry too," he offers, biting his lip. He hesitates, then adds, "I might have been a bit... flippant."

Jethro nods.

It's tense.

Their gazes are locked, and to Jethro it feels as if they're balancing on the edge of a knife. Or on the edge of a cliff, about to stumble off. As if this one moment is make or break, absolutely everything they are and could be hanging in the shared breath between them - and it occurs to Jethro that this thing they have between them is still achingly fragile, for all their years of friendship as the foundation.

Their friendship has survived betrayals and amnesia and stupid ass decisions on both their parts, so it can survive a failed attempt at a romantic relationship, but it's not their friendship that's at stake. It's the home and family and rest of their lives that they're trying to build on top of it that's currently at risk.

Jethro doesn't know what to say to fix things. He never does.

"There are landmines that I didn't even know existed, aren't there?" says Tony, smiling gently but like it's hurting him. He looks likes he's close to tears.

Jethro lets loose a long breath, and cuddles in close to Tony, bring his arms up around him, feeling Tony's arms encircle him in return. "Yeah, there are landmines." He rests his head on Tony's chest, listening to the steady comforting heartbeat. "Question is, how are you gonna deal with them?"

"How are we going to deal with them," says Tony firmly, a question and answer in one.

"Together?" asks Jethro in a whisper, just a lot scared.

"I'd like that," says Tony softly. "I'll try to think before I open my mouth in future," he adds ruefully.

"Same here," sighs Jethro.

They lay there for a bit, soaking in the quiet little bit of world and breathing space that they have just carved out for themselves. Tony rubs his hand over Jethro's hair soothingly, and Jethro caresses Tony's forearm with his thumb.

 

  
Hours later when he gets to work, Jethro is handed one hell of a case. The murder victim is a trans-woman.

The timing of it feels suspicious, so soon after Jethro has come out as transgender to Tony. But, unfortunately, it's also understandable. There's been a slowly increasing surge of hate crimes against queer people of all sorts since their newest president has taken office, and transgender women haven't been cut any slack. Given certain, ugly presidential tweets, inciting the masses and encouraging discrimination, it was probably only a matter of time before someone murdered a transgender marine.

Jethro's overwhelmingly relieved that Tony's stuck at the doctor's this morning, getting the stitches in his thigh removed. It's a short reprieve only, Tony will be back on the job, on this case, soon enough. But it means that someone will have time to brief him in advance of seeing it for himself. Jethro doesn't know how Tony will handle a case with a transgender victim, not now that Tony knows what Jethro is.

As for Jethro, he doesn't want to be Jethro anymore. He can't handle this, and in a heartbeat he's compartmentalised. He's Gibbs again, the agent who can't be broken.

Gibbs is furious. Why is it always the innocent ones who suffer the most?

Ducky coos sympathetically over the poor girl's corpse, talking softly to her, "My dear, we will do our very best to take good care of you."

She was young at 21 years old, although these days most of the victims seem young to Gibbs, but this time it wounds especially deeply. Her death has left behind a broken young husband, barely out of his teens at just 20 years old. The pair are about twenty years younger than he and Shannon had been at hers and Kelly's deaths, but Hugh and Sky Card-Iglesias are close in age to that of when Leroy and Shannon had run away to get married.

Gibbs can see Hugh through the open bedroom doors, sitting on the living room couch, still in pyjama pants and Pokémon t-shirt, covered in blood (Gibbs only recognises the little orange dragon because Tony and Ellie had played that damn game for hours on end, excitedly showing off their favourite captures). There's a numb, lack of expression on the boy's face. Hugh had woken up to find his wife tortured and dead, in bed beside him. He'd used his cell phone to call for an ambulance, crying and screaming.

Jimmy and Ellie are both with him now, trying to get him to respond, but Gibbs doubts that anything will rouse the boy from the place his mind has locked itself in. Blood tests will no doubt reveal that he'd been drugged into unconsciousness. Gibbs recognises the horror-tinged emptiness on Hugh's face, he's seen it in the mirror. Hugh hasn't murdered Sky. The boy doesn't know how to live without her.

 

  
"Agent Gibbs!" A microphone is shoved in his face. "Was the murder of Marine Private Iglesias motivated by him secretly being a man?"

"Private Card-Iglesias was a woman who's just been murdered. Have a little respect," bites out Gibbs. Leon is going to kill him for talking to a reporter. It never ends well. Gibbs isn't known for his smooth-talking.

"My sources tell me that Private Iglesias hadn't undergone surgery at the time of his death, so he was still a man," says the journalist. "Do you think him being a transsexual was a factor in his death?"

Gibbs stares coldly at the expectant journalist. "Looked like a woman to me," says Gibbs, not knowing the words to fight against such an insidious insult, and he bats the microphone away, and tries to walk past the camera-man.

"Surely they teach you not to judge a book by its cover at investigator school?" interjects the guy with a winning smile, and finally Gibbs considers him enough to realise that this journalist isn't actually interested in the truth, in helping give closure to the victim's family. He just wants a story to make his name.

"Actually, at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Centre, they do teach us to judge a book by its cover," answers Gibbs with mocking cheer and his own charming grin - pulling a note out of Tony's book - and knowing full well the journalist isn't falling for it from his slight confused frown. No matter. "They teach us to judge the cover, the contents, the language, the ink, the paper, the spine and binding," his voice grows stronger and stronger with anger. "They teach us to consider all the individual parts, and the sum and the product of those parts, and the shelf on which the book is placed and even the whole damn library it's in."

The journalist looks taken aback, and he opens his mouth, but Gibbs isn't done. He takes a deep breath. "So don't try telling me how to do my job when you can't even take into account the context of someone's declared and lived identity!" roars Gibbs.

He glares at the man, daring him to say anything more, but the journalist looks shell-shocked, as if he'd never expected opposition.

"Bigoted asshole," growls Gibbs, and makes sure to knock his shoulder into the jerk as he strides past him. It's technically assault and this will all probably come back to bite Gibbs in the ass later, especially since it's all on camera, but he's too pissed off to care right now.

 

  
Not long afterwards, when Leon Vance calls him to the director's office, Jethro throws himself into a chair with a defiant glare. "I'm not apologising," he says sullenly.

Leon frowns, and puts down his pen. "I called you here to update me on your case. Is there something else I should know about?"

Jethro presses his lips together. Probie move, brother, whispers Mike's voice in his head. It's a rookie interrogation mistake, verbally admitting guilt before seeing what evidence is against him. "Nope," says Jethro uncaringly with a shrug, as if he doesn't give a shit whether Leon believes him. In his experience, indifference hides more things than innocence.

"Alright," says Leon cautiously, clearly disbelieving, but willing to go along with it for now - which, as far as Jethro's concerned, is a win, when the person you don't want to admit any wrong-doing to is the director of an investigative agency. "Catch me up then."

Jethro grimaces, there's not much to tell, yet. "Bishop's running background checks, no leads yet. McGee's interviewing the husband, but I don't expect him to have much luck. And DiNozzo's at the crime scene, he wanted to see it for himself in order to get a better idea on what went down." Jethro's just glad that Jimmy and Ducky had already moved Sky's body to the morgue before Tony had arrived at HQ and left again for the crime scene.

"DiNozzo's got back-up," states Leon, and it's an assumption, not a question, but Jethro nods anyway, pleased that Vance cares about Tony's safety regardless of his personal dislike of the man.

"Balboa and Yates are keeping him company," says Jethro, trying to make it sound like he just happens to know that, instead of being the one who asked Cassie Yates to tag along on Jack's guard duty, never mind that bonding as SFA to SFA, she and DiNozzo have actually become good friends and she probably would have volunteered. They're both fans of undercover work and spy movies.

"Of course," says Leon, sharp eyes spearing him with a knowing look. "Are we going to have to talk about you and DiNozzo? I know you're protective of your team, but I can't see your justification for sending two senior agents as back up for him when the Card-Iglesias residence is already under police lock-down and we have no reason to believe our agents will be targeted."

In the back of Jethro's mind warning alarms start blaring. He shrugs with deliberate carelessness. "DiNozzo mentioned wanting to catch up with Yates while she was back in town, and I was feeling indulgent." He was being an over-protective boyfriend, but what Leon doesn't know won't hurt him, and it's not like Tony won't chew him out for it later anyway. Tony values his independence, and won't take kindly to the implication that he can't look after himself, no matter how much he appreciates the opportunity to reunite with a friend.

Leon stares hard at him. "Very well. It's known that you're often indulgent with all members of your team, and it's known that Special Agent Yates is only in town for a few weeks, before she returns to her post."

Jethro scowls. Leon's not trying very hard to talk circles around something. "If you've got something to say then just say it, Leon," snaps Jethro, annoyed by the way Leon's acting as if he's obviously letting Jethro get away with something.

Leon's lips twitch, and he leans back in his chair. "I'd just like to remind you that according to current NCIS protocols regarding relationships between team members, the agents involved have three months leeway in which they must declare their relationship. It's nice if we can get everything acknowledged officially to prevent expensive lawsuits of the Conflict of Interest type."

Jethro freezes, and his eyes go wide despite himself.

"Of course," continues Leon mildly, looking amused, "NCIS trusts its agents to maintain professionalism, integrity, and - while on duty - to continue to put first our primary goals of protecting marines, sailors, and their families, and delivering justice to the victims of injustice. This trust is why we don't have anti-fraternisation regulations, and why instead of pretending our agents don't have hearts, we support our agents when they lose them. And a happy coincidence, but happy workers makes for good work performance." He winks at Jethro.

Jethro swallows, overwhelmed, and possibly about to die from embarrassment. Leon Vance just winked at him. He can't say a thing, feeling as if he's been paralysed, staring at Leon in fear. The idea of having to tell, when he's spent his entire life keeping his eyes on women and his mouth shut because of people's bullshit, and horror stories in the news, and the DADT, is terrifying.

"How did you find out?" asks Jethro, gripping the armrests tightly and feeling very, very small.

"About you and DiNozzo?" clarifies Leon with a gentle voice, clearly responding to his distress.

Jethro hesitates, then nods just a little. And that's it, no going back, that particular secret's out, and he spares just a thought to hope that Tony will forgive him for outing him as well.

"You might want to start locking the door if you and DiNozzo plan to keep sleeping together on the couch. I went over to your house, late Monday night," says Leon, shrugging, in a way that's not careless at all.

Jethro can feel the blood drain from his face as icy horror clenches his heart in a tight grip. He can't remember hearing the front door open, but he and Tony have slept together on the couch for the last three nights in a row. If Leon had walked in on them fucking, making love, what exactly did he see?

Leon pauses at Jethro's pale face, and furrows his brow. "I didn't walk in on you guys having sex, if that's what you're thinking," he assures. "You and DiNozzo were both fast asleep together on the couch, and there were blankets covering everything important. But it was pretty clear that you were both naked."

Jethro looks away, letting out a long relieved breath, and tries to calm his panicking heart.

"Okay," says Jethro. That was far, far too close. "I'll start locking my door," he says helplessly - because he and Tony will probably end up on the couch again, tonight even, unless they go to Tony's apartment instead of his house - and he laughs. It's shaded with just a little bit of hysteria.

Leon smiles. "Congratulations, Gibbs."

"For what?" says Jethro, trying to shake off his relieved grin, because Leon sure as shit ain't congratulating him for keeping secret his tiny dick and his cunt behind it.

"On getting together with DiNozzo." Leon raises an eyebrow. "Unless I've misunderstood the situation and you guys were just blowing off some steam or something? I had wondered why you were on the couch and not a bed."

Jethro 's cheeks burn. They might be friends, but Leon's still his boss, and in this office it feels less like they're on equal ground and more like Jethro's having to explain himself to his dad.

"Not blowing off steam. Not casual," mutters Jethro, ducking his chin, and doesn't explain that he and Tony have so far been too impatient to press their bodies together to make it to the bedroom.

Jethro feels awkward beneath Leon's gaze, but people usually do congratulate their friends when those friends enter into new relationships, don't they? But it's surprising, the way that Leon's treating this as if it's just any other two agents, any other two guys, as if it's normal. "Thanks," says Jethro, smiling crookedly as he peers up to meet Leon's eyes. It's nice to not have this treated like it's a big deal, even though it is to him.

Leon hesitates, then says solemnly, "Your face looked peaceful. When you were cuddled up with DiNozzo. You looked at peace with your arms around each other, even in your sleep, and I am happy for you to have found some measure of that, given your past."

Understanding washes over Jethro, and with it, compassion. He and Leon have both lost a lover, a partner, a wife. "Anthony is a second chance at love," says Jethro softly, empathy railroading him into unvarnished truth. "I'm not sure I deserve it, I'm trying to earn it and be worthy of him, but he's a second soul mate that I never knew could even exist." He keeps his eyes locked on Leon. "Maybe someday you'll find a second chance as well."

Leon clears his throat, dark eyes tearing up, and he looks away. "Maybe," is all Leon says, but there's hope in his voice that hadn't been there before. "And I'm sorry for watching you, both of you, while you were sleeping," he adds a little awkwardly, as if that makes up for the creep factor. It doesn't, but Jethro's only got himself to blame when he's got an open-door policy for his friends, and hell, even with some of his enemies.

I'm gonna have to change that, Jethro thinks. He's got something worthy of keeping the door closed, worthy of setting boundaries between his personal and work life; someone he needs to keep safe. And happy, Tony needs and deserves happiness as well as safety.

And the next relevant thought doesn't hit him until he's walking back down the bullpen stairs, and it nearly gets him killed as he misses a step in surprise, but despite not occurring until later, it does hit him: We both deserve happiness, I deserve to be happy just as much as Tony does.

 

 

*

 

 

_Anthony D. DiNozzo Junior_

 

"It's unnatural," says Senior, frowning at Abby, looking for all the world as if she's disappointed him.

Abby gasps, and glares at Senior, disappointed in him.  
  
Tony snorts, darkly amused and unsurprised by Senior's stance on homosexuality, and he takes another sip of his apple-mango cider, wanting to stay safely out of it. But the noise must draw people's attention, because when he looks up again everyone's looking at him instead of the two who were actually leading the conversation.

"Tell me that you don't agree with him, Tony," says Abby, eyes wide and pleading as she looks at him.

Senior cuts in, "Of course Junior agrees with me! He's not some fairy. I raised him better."

At that, Tony grins meanly - he is not Junior - and he drawls, "Dad. That would have required for you to raise me at all, instead of forgetting about me in random hotel rooms while you were off doing business."

Senior scowls back at him, and snaps, "I was busy earning money to pay for your education, Junior. I sincerely hope you haven't wasted all of my investment by kissing men the way you used to kiss boys."

Tony freezes, halfway to taking another sip, and his knuckles blanch white from how tightly he's gripping the glass. Slowly, Tony lowers his drink to the table. Despite the party music, dancing, and background conversation all around them, it's become uncomfortably silent at their table. His team-mates, co-workers, and people whom Tony respects, have all gone quiet and still, staring wide-eyed at Tony and Senior, their gazes ping-ponging between the two of them.

Tony takes a second to think, because his instinctive response, There's nothing wrong with kissing a boy, is fine for the boy he was when he first said it, but it's not appropriate for a man. Finally, refusing to let Senior bully him into silence, Tony says evenly, "There's nothing wrong with two boys choosing to kiss each other, or two men choosing to kiss each other." His lips curl into a sneer, and he adds coldly, "You should never have told me that there was."

Senior huffs in disgust."Still the disappointment, Junior." He shakes his head. "Your mother would be sickened."

Tony swallows. Shame feels like a hot cage, like red-hot bars searing his cheeks, forcing him into a shape he doesn't fit, and it takes willpower to keep the lurking tears at bay. But Tony's always reacted with defiance to people who make him afraid. "When mom caught me trading sweets for kisses with Carlos, the cook's son, she only had one thing to say to me," says Tony, hating that Senior is forcing him to spill so many of his precious secrets tonight, but unwilling to back down. "She said, 'Don't let your father find out or he'll beat it out of you'."

Tony smiles humourlessly. "Guess she was close enough to right, after all."

"I never beat you," says Senior indignantly, "I never laid a hand on you!" A long-suffering expression crosses his face, "You always were a little liar. I guess you haven't changed at all."

"No, you're right, beating me would have required for you to take a hands-on approach in raising me, so no, I'll give you that one. You never laid a hand on me," says Tony. The pounding of his heartbeat is growing so load, it's deafening him, and he barely hears himself speak as his darkest secret slips out of his mouth without a single thought to the consequences, "You just sent away your twelve year old son to be tortured in an anti-gay conversion camp."

Tony stares at Senior, and his father glares back at him. Tony carefully places his hands on the table, both sweaty palms pressed flat, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to hold the memories at bay, but little snippets escape to flash through his mind, in front of his eyes, superimposing over reality.

He's tied to his chair. Across the table, Tim and Abby have both turned pale - an especially mean feat for Abby under all her make-up, and Ellie raises a shaky hand to cover her open mouth. It's a relief that they believe him; no one else ever did.

He's bare-chested and someone attaches electrodes to his skin. His heart hammers away at his ribcage, feeling like it's going to burst out like a monstrous face-hugger from Alien.

Terror seizes him. He doesn't want to relive what comes next. His mental floorboards crack, bulging up as the memory-monster tries to escape, but Tony gathers up all his strength and pushes down.

Despair seeps out of the cracks, twisting slimy fingers into his gut, so he heaves and pushes, heaves and pushes, and doesn't stop fighting until the monster stops and slithers back down beneath the floor, the boards of his mind settling down once more, leaving only clear reality in front of his eyes.

Breathing hard and opening his eyes to look around the table, Tony realises, that what felt like long, painful minutes, tens of minutes, of fighting to control his mind has only been seconds.

His friends are still in unmoving shock. Looking as shattered by the words as Tony feels, all their conceptions of Senior, and of Tony, flipped upside down. Even Director Vance looks more stony-faced than usual, the good father - the good person - in him repulsed by the concept of conversion therapy, let alone the reality of its implementation.

But while it feels like so much time has passed since Tony said the words, Senior only just now responds, dismissing Tony's words with an uncaring wave of his hand. "Nonsense, I sent you to a good Catholic summer camp to get you straightened out. Your behaviour had become increasingly difficult and disrespectful. Honestly, you have such a way with exaggeration, it's no surprise that they disciplined you harshly, Junior."

"My name is Anthony!" fires back Tony, a dam breaking high above the floors of his mind, and his anger rushes out, boiling through his veins. But this monster he likes, this monster fights for him. "It shouldn't be so difficult to remember since you had the narcissism to name me after yourself! And non-consensual electroshock therapy and beatings and starvation, are not harsh methods of discipline but methods of fucking torture!"

"I'll call you worthy of high praise when you've goddamned earned it, Junior. Mid-forties and still no heir to show for it? You're lucky I let you keep the name DiNozzo!" Senior snarls fiercely (and Tony would sooner die than let his father anywhere near Tali), and if Tony were still twelve years old he'd be actually terrified, but now that he's bigger and stronger than his old man? Senior's anger in comparison to his own is kind of pathetic.

"Ha!" Tony's not even surprised that his father dodged the main fucking point of his argument, it's such a typical move for him. But his heartbeat is steadying because he knows he can take back control of the conversation. He has an ace up his sleeve, and it'll be totally worth it, pulling it out in front of everyone, in order to see the look on his father's face. "Keep acting like a bigoted shithead and your only heir will take his husband's last name when he marries!"

Senior jerks back, utterly revolted. "You wouldn't dare," says Senior, staring in disbelief. The horror on his father's face is definitely worth Tony having to completely out himself to his friends and co-workers as to still being attracted to men, as to being gay, with no hope of marrying a woman.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at him, and grins wryly. "You have no idea what I would dare. In fact, I already have in mind just the right man for the job." Anthony Gibbs has a rather nice ring to it, even if Tony Gibbs sounds a little plain. Still, it'd be worth it to drop the 'Junior'.

Senior splutters, red-faced and eyes bulging, and Tony is vaguely disappointed that Gibbs is still in the bathroom, because it would be totally awesome to turn to Gibbs and casually, nonchalantly, ask to marry him. Tony smirks faintly, he reckons that Gibbs would say yes, even in front of everyone, just to piss off Senior, and he bets that it would make Senior explode.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Mr. DiNozzo," says a familiar voice, full of barely controlled rage.

Tony's head whips around. Gibbs. Gibbs. Oh, FUCK. How long has he been standing there?

Gibbs's blue eyes are spitting bullets as he glares at Senior, his hands are clenched into tight, shaking fists, his entire body is trembling with restrained violence. "In fact, Mr. DiNozzo," continues Gibbs, low and dangerously, "I'll walk you out of here myself."

Looking at Gibbs, all hard muscle in the sharp outfit that he let Tony pick out for him, the living incarnation of US Marine loyalty, and utterly furious on Tony's behalf, Tony's never been so turned on in all his life. Honestly, it's a good thing that his turbulent and changing emotions make Tony speechless, and that Gibbs grabs Senior by the arm and marches him out of there as quickly as possible, because Tony's pretty sure that the next words out of his mouth would have been a sincere, actual proposal of marriage to Gibbs.

When Gibbs stalks back to their group, a few minutes later, Tony is determinedly staring into his glass and desperately ignoring everyone's attempts to interrogate him. But Tony's head jerks up at Abby's gasp and Tim and Ellie's worried tones, and Gibbs announces to the table, but mostly to Tony: that it's not his blood - for he has a splash of red across his knuckles - that he punched Senior, that he's broken Senior's nose and left the man outside the restaurant, shouting obscenities and threatening to sue him and have him arrested. For attempted murder.

Tony doesn't think - or even answer - he just pulls his phone out and calls his big brother.

"Hello?" says a deep masculine voice on the other side of the line, a voice that most definitely does not belong to Jason.

"Hi, this is Tony," says Tony, taken aback, because his brother is just as particular about handing out his phone as Tony is. "I'm trying to get a hold of Jason. Is this Benny?" There's a younger guy that his brother mentions every now and again with a smile, someone else that Jason also calls little brother. Tony isn't jealous, only protective, which is the only reason why he did a full background check on Benjamin Colón when Jason first mentioned him.

"Do you mean Benny Colón? No, sorry, I'm Chunk, Chunk Palmer. I'm answering on behalf of Dr. Bull, he's a little busy with work at the moment." Oh right. One of Jason's best friends, and one of his employees as well. A big sports jock turned fashion aficionado with suits as nice as Tony's, or so Jason says, though apparently Chunk wears bright colours and actual cravats.

"Right. Ah, well, can you put Jason on? I need to talk with him." Tony frowns down at his near-empty glass of cider, deliberately ignoring the questioning gazes of his team and co-workers around the table. He could really use another drink after all this. Something stronger than cider, at that.

"I'm sorry, but Bull's kind of in the middle of something important for a case right now. Can I get him to call you back tomorrow?"

Tony blinks. "No, you can't," says Tony, offended, even though Chunk's been nothing but polite. "I need to speak with Jason now. It's urgent."

Chunk hesitates. And it's entirely possible that Jason has spoiled him, just a little bit, because now that he thinks about it, Tony's big brother usually drops everything for him.  
  
"Perhaps you could tell me what the problem is? Maybe I could help," says Chunk eventually, sounding both concerned and apologetic.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but you can't help," says Tony, rolling his eyes at the presumption. "You don't know the people involved, you don't know the history or the relationship dynamics, and you definitely don't know the jackass I'm calling about, or what he's capable of. Now, I'm sure it's important - everything Jason does is important, he's just that kind of guy - but nonetheless, will you please tell him that his-" Tony hesitates, not wanting to say brother and let on to his curious co-workers that he's got even more secrets.

"Anthony needs to speak with him, right now."

"Okay, hang tight, let me see if I can get his attention," says Chunk, and Tony's frustration abates just a little. At least Jason has good taste in friends.

Tony waits impatiently, drumming his fingers on the table, but at least from the snatches of words he can hear, Chunk is trying to get to Jason. Meanwhile, having retaken his chair beside Tony at the table, Gibbs is staring at him, brows drawn together in what looks like confusion, but there's a glint of something darker in his eyes.

"What?" hisses Tony, holding the receiver end of his cell away from his mouth. He's not happy with Gibbs for putting them in a situation where they need Jason's help. It's just that, standing beside Jason always ends up making Tony feel as though he's not enough, as though he's constantly in second place, a perpetual runner-up who never catches up. But Jason can help, because dealing with legal bullshit is right up his alley, for all that he's not a lawyer. Tony catches bad guys for a living, but Jason gets them convicted, and goes above and beyond to ensure that people who are wrongly accused don't get convicted. Which is why Tony's calling him now, even though Gibbs is totally guilty as shit of punching Senior; he trusts that Jason can get an acquittal, maybe even get the charges dropped entirely.

Gibbs finally interrupts his thoughts with a shrug, his mouth twisting down. "Thought you were my Anthony," murmurs Gibbs, ducking his head and looking away.

Tony's frustration melts. Gibbs might have been a bit stupidly impulsive in punching Senior, but his heart is in the right place. However Tony is awfully aware of the eyes that are on them, of the secrets that have been unveiled tonight, and of the way his co-workers might now interpret any affection between Tony and another man. Tony's not yet ready to be outed as being in a relationship with Gibbs, and Gibbs isn't out of the closet at all, so Tony just shakes his head.

"Later," says Tony, unwilling to risk saying anything more revealing in front of their team, and Abby and Ducky, and everyone's plus ones. Actually, he'd be okay if they told Jimmy and Breena, he trusts Jimmy implicitly, also the parents of Tony's god-child should probably know that Tony might end up raising little Victoria with Gibbs if anything happens to them. But he definitely doesn't want Director Vance to find out about them like this. Though it's entirely possible that everyone will put two and two together anyway.

Gibbs nods, but he's still looking faintly upset - like he's hurting but doesn't want anyone to know it. Has he forgotten that Jason is Tony's brother?

Tony sighs, because he's always a sucker for Gibbs, and he's leans over to whisper in Gibbs's ear, "Look, just trust me, okay? You're my Jaeger co-pilot, remember? I need you to trust me now, even though I haven't told you everything."

"Ah, Anthony?" Jason. In the phone at his ear. There's no way his brother didn't just overhear that. Fuck.

Tony jerks away from Gibbs like he's been scalded. "You didn't hear that!" he snaps into his phone.

"Hear what?" says Jason, amused and obediently playing along. However he has an undertone of worry in his voice as he says, "What's so urgent, Anthony, that you had to scare my good friend Chunk?"

Tony deflates. Now he actually has to talk about what went down with his father. Jason's gonna be furious, Tony just knows it.

He doesn't want to have to ask, but Jason is the only person in the world that he knows of who has gone up against Senior and won. "I need your help," says Tony in a small voice.

"What do you need?" says Jason immediately, not a second of hesitation.

Tony swallows down his pride. "My work is having a dinner party tonight, family was included, invited, and Senior showed up-"

Jason's voice thunders through the little speaker, making Tony yank his ear away and throw out his hand holding the phone, and his brother is loud enough that everyone can clearly hear, "What the hell is that jackass doing anywhere near you!"

Ellie's eyes go wide, Tim's brows shoot up, and Abby's jaw drops. And yep, Jason is furious, probably scarily so to Tony's co-workers, because while it doesn't seem to have consciously registered that the man on the phone sounds identical to Tony, they are reacting as if it's Tony who shouted. Fearful, because they've only heard Tony raise his voice in anger maybe thrice in all the time they've known him - including tonight. Gibbs, the bastard, simply looks pleased that someone else is so thoroughly on Tony's side.

But Tony cringes, not looking forward to explaining that Senior is actually back in his life now as a 'once in a blue moon' father figure, because, somehow, it's just never come up in conversation with Jason. "Never mind that," says Tony hurriedly, pulling the phone back to his ear.

"The point is that he and I had an argument, and Gibbs escorted him out, but then Gibbs came back with blood on his knuckles, Senior's blood." Tony's babbling now, but he can't help it, he's just fucking overwhelmed with all this shit, just one more thing on a very long list of things. "Gibbs says he hit Senior and broke his nose, and that Senior threatened to sue him and have him arrested for attempted murder of all fucking things, and I really, really, don't want Gibbs to go to jail."

Tony takes a deep breath and covers his eyes with one hand, because he's getting damn well teary-eyed - Fuck it all - in front of his co-workers. He says, quietly begging, "Can you please make this all go away, Jason?"

And his big brother, god fucking bless him, says, "I'll take care of it. Okay? Everything's going to be alright, Anthony. And I'm so proud of you for asking for help, kid. You hear me? You can forget all about Senior because after I'm through with him he'll never again see the light of day."

"Okay. I hear you," says Tony, and relief overwhelms him, and he breathes out slowly. For the second time in his life, Tony is truly grateful that Jason Bull is actually a part of it. "I owe you one."

"I've been wanting to give your old man hell for a very long time, I only held back because you asked me not to." Jason sighs tiredly. "You're family, Anthony, you don't owe me anything."

"Thanks, Jason," whispers Tony, suddenly ashamed all over again - he never really calls his brother for anything except for his help.

"Aw fuck, Anthony," says Jason roughly. "I love you, little brother. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," says Tony, and his cheeks are burning, and he's hoping his team aren't paying any attention to him but he knows that they all are. He turns as far around in his chair as he can, avoiding everyone's eyes, and looking out over the dance floor. "Love you too, Jason," he mumbles.

Jason chuckles at his embarrassment and assures him again that Senior won't be a problem - for Tony or Gibbs - because he'll take care of it right away. Then they says their goodbyes, and end the call.

Tony shakes his head, smiling helplessly to himself, gently tapping his phone against his temple in thought. The absolute worst part about having Jason for a brother is that he's such a good big brother when Tony lets him be one. Jason knows exactly how insecure he makes Tony, and he never rubs it in Tony's face. At least if he was a dick about it, then Tony would feel justified in not liking him.

 

 

*

 

 

  
Tomorrow is Tali's birthday, and Tony had promised his daughter, four months earlier, that he'd be there for the party. Kids are great at making you make almost impossible promises.

So, of course, the MCRT catches a new case early on Friday morning. They haven't even closed the Card-Iglesias case yet - it's proving to be a tough one.

Fortunately, Tony had filed the paperwork four months earlier to have the entire weekend off duty, not knowing back then which day Ziva would want to throw the small party, as she had planned to invite Tali's playmates, co-ordinating with their parents. So come late Friday afternoon, Tony practically skips out of the bullpen. Not that he wants to abandon the search for Sky's murderers or miss out on the new murder case, and not that he wants to leave all the work squarely on his team mates' shoulders without helping, but fuck does he ever need a break.

On his way out, he jokes to Tim and Ellie that he's got a hot date he can't miss - because it doesn't hurt to reinforce his old camouflage - and while they're shaking their heads in disgust, Tony winks at Gibbs. He gets an amused smirk in return and Gibbs quips, "Aren't you getting a little old to be playing with dolls, DiNozzo?"

Tony scoffs. "As if, boss, don't you know that they make ones for adults now?" He grins wickedly at Gibbs as Tim splutters and Ellie's jaw drops - and Tony loves, loves, loves embarrassing his kids - and his secret lover hides a reddening face behind taking a sip from his large coffee cup, well aware of what he's referencing.

But anyway, Gibbs was meant to be coming to Tali's party too, Tony and Ziva are both paranoid bastards and pretty much the only person they both completely trust with Tali is Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Fortunately for them, Gibbs adores their little girl, and has never turned down a request to babysit. Unfortunately, some still has to lead the case.

"Get out of here, DiNozzo," grumbles Gibbs, probably more irritated that he has to deal with murder while Tony gets to eat cake than embarrassed by Tony's teasing, but either way Tony gets while the going's good.

 

*

 

 

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

 

Leroy, today, because lately he feels more like that happy child he used to be with his Wolverine claws and Captain America comics, happy once again with his newfound love with Tony, and the playfulness and affection that has become inherent to their private relationship - Leroy sits down in shock.

Heart thundering in his ears.

Hands trembling where they're holding onto the edges of the kitchen table, holding on for fear he'll fall.

Eyes locked on the blazing screen of the laptop that Tony's excitedly plunked down in front of him.

The world has surprised him, one more time.

With something good.

Something impossible.

Truly.

Impossible.

But Tony's babbling, loud and thrilled, off the charts in excitement, "-genetic engineering. They've already done human trials! I've been so busy at work that I missed the initial research group's work, but they've done it! We'll have to travel to the U.K. for you to receive the injection, there's no way Big Pharma here will sell it at a reasonable price, but it's do-able, my cousin Crispin will just have to put up- Gibbs?"

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading through my series Evil Author Day and has made it this far.
> 
> Again, this is from my box of scraps that I'm not finishing, but there are a couple fics that I might go back to eventually. Despite having written a lot more for it than I'd thought, Logan won't be one of them. Just a heads up.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Edmond


End file.
